


Make or Break (You Gotta Know)

by canyoudigit



Series: I'm So Sorry [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunter Heists, Fake AH Crew, Female Jack, GTA AU, M/M, brief prostitution mention, fem!Jack, mild raywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canyoudigit/pseuds/canyoudigit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Now, we’re not interested in becoming murderers.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make or Break (You Gotta Know)

“Now, we’re not interested in becoming murderers.”

A pistol was put to the store clerk’s throat. He barely noticed the men walk in, but he sure did now.

There were three of them; a too young looking hispanic boy with a pink sniper hanging across his back, shifting through magazines, seemingly unbothered by the events unfolding around him, a tall, muscular blonde haired man pulling bags from the shelves and presenting the younger boy the assorted snacks. Depending on a small nod or shake of the head of the boy, the blonde man put them back or shoved them into his jacket.

The last man, the one with the gun, stood just out of the view of the panicked clerk, who now had his hands almost comically above his head in an exaggerated form of surrender.

The gun clicked, making the clerk flinch. He should not have taken the late night shift, he thought, shivering.

“We just want the money.” He said the words very slowly, emphasizing each syllable with a tone that made chills run down the spine of the cashier.

“And Snacks,” the sniper boy called out, his older counterpart jiggling a small bag of potato chips. “snacks too.”

“And snacks.” The invisible man echoed, somehow still sounding threatening.

The store clerk nodded aggressively and dropped his trembling hands to open the register. “Of course, of course…” he repeated over and over, fumbling the money into a plastic bag.

“No,” The snack thief finally spoke up. “not that money. You _know_ what we’re looking for, sir.” His voice was gravelly. It matched his menacing appearance. He was absolutely terrifying, but also hauntingly handsome. The facepaint definitely helped.

The store clerk froze mid-grab. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered, absentmindedly reaching his hands back over his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

He was cut off by a machete plunging into the counter in front of him. The man yelped, jumping back. The corners of his vision began to fade and he vaguely felt a wet warmness running down his leg.

He was not good in these types of situations.

“ _Bullshit_.” The faceless voice behind him finally stepped out to stand before the horrified man. His voice, unlike the man with the facepaint, did not match his appearance. Although intimidating, he sounded much like a pre-pubescent teen, vocal cracks and all. Actually seeing the man, on the other hand, sent a fresh new wave of nauseating fear through the old clerk.

He wasn’t big, per say. He wore a suit, but the darkness of his tattoos were slightly visible on his knuckles and up his hand before disappearing into the blackness of the fabric. The clerk knew there were definitely more. He allowed his eyes to wander to the man’s face. Deep, dark bags stretched below the man’s shockingly crystal blue eyes. Evidence of a mustache lingered on his face. Looking at him, looking at all of the men, the cashier felt a shameful twitch in his crotch, a feeling that he quickly tried to repress. Not the time to get an old, wrinkly hard-on at his potential killers.

“Ryan,” the tattooed man grinned. The scary snack man’s head snapped to attention. “why don’t you help this kind man understand what we are looking for?”

But Ryan didn’t need to help the clerk understand. Before he even took a step toward the front counter, the old man scrambled to retrieve what the men were after; but his fingers brushed against the panic button, causing the men to lurch toward him, guns out. He choked out an apology and pleaded for forgiveness.

“Listen, listen, it’s alright.” The ring leader put his hand on the clerk’s back. He was eerily calm, almost as if he hadn’t seen the act, as did the scary man, Ryan, and the younger boy. They stared, looking more annoyed than angry.

“Are you going to kill me?” the old man’s knees shook, his palms sweat an ungodly amount, and he was sure the wetness of his back seeped through his shirt as the tattooed man pat him apologetically.

“Of course not.” He laughed. “You did the human thing. Sure, It was _really_ shitty, but hey man, no hard feelings with me.”

The old man relaxed, his head swimming. He would definitely need a drink after all of this was through.

“We are going to need that money, though.” Sniper boy coughed.

“Ray here is right. We are still going to need that. You can get it for us, yeah?”

The clerk nodded, opening the small coded safe under the counter with horribly shaky hands. His thoughts were muddled at that moment, but the two boy's names clicked in his head. Ryan and Ray. Ryan Haywood and Ray Narvaez Jr., The R&R Connection. That’s what the people on the news were calling them. Los Santos’s own gay Bonnie and Clyde. Motorcycle riding, trigger-happy sharpshooters that were part of the biggest, baddest group of criminals in Los Santos. a decent title, given that they live in a in a city full of ‘em. And their leader, Geoffrey Ramsey, was standing before him. Touching him.

The Fake AH Crew’s name alone would send chills up the spine of even the most hardened felon. That poor old clerk, though, was far from a felon. Well, actually, he was; technically. The money those young men wanted was from his boss’s own prostitution ring. He supposed he could be considered guilty by association, but with all the incredibly illegal running businesses in Los Santos, he hadn’t really been worried. He shivered at the thought of what the shopowner would do to him when he found out that the hundreds of thousands of dollars he had his girls literally busting their asses for had gone so easily into the hands of a couple of smart ass teenagers.

Geoff looked no older than twenty, Ryan had to be at least eighteen, and Ray was only about sixteen. A bunch of thugs relying on mainly luck to pull off these wild heists that took other crews years to even plan. _A waste_ , the old clerk thought, _awfully intelligent young men turned to the life of crime. shame._

The clerk produced a small box and passed it to Geoff.

“A pleasure, sir. Sorry for the inconvenience, by the way;” He handed the box over to Ryan, flashing his handsome smile, “gotta make our money some way.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, and the boys exchanged annoyed glances, waved, and left. Not quite as silent as when they came, their ride screeching to a halt outside and beeping wildly. The boys disappeared inside of it, the last of them the clerk would ever see.

The clerk released a hard breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Scrubbing his face, he didn’t even see the ball of fire fast approaching from outside his store before the car screeched away into the night. Poor old man, never knew what hit him, Blown off the map by Michael’s rocket launcher.

Geoff chuckled, settling into backseat and taking the box from Ryan’s lap. _No hard feelings for me, maybe. can’t say the same for Michael, though._ A part of him felt bad, that guy was pretty fun. But the payoff would be even better.

“How much?” Jack said from the front seat. She seemed undisturbed by the cops, driving with one hand and holding Michael’s jacket with the other; keeping him in the car as he hung out the window and blasted the patrol cars tailing them.

Geoff rubbed his hands together and lifted the clasp on the box. He excitedly opened it, the entire crew holding their breath in anticipation with him.

“You’re having a laugh!” Gavin screeched from his position in the trunk. “It’s a bunch of rubbers!”

“That wrinkly fuck.” Geoff steamed as he lowered the window and chucked the box of condoms outside.

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had just gotten the money and gone out instead of putting up that stupid act, Geoffrey.” Ray mumbled, burying his face in Ryan’s jacket.

Geoff made a choked sound and turned to look out the window.

Ray _was_ right _,_  but man, he didn’t have to be such a dick about it.

**Author's Note:**

> ya fucked it up, geoff.


End file.
